A Fragment of Time
by OakWilllow
Summary: John follows Sherlock on a case. Things don't go down very well and somehow John ends up in Middle Earth. Want to read about how John reacts to a dragon version of Sherlock? Give it a shot. It's worth the time :) John/Bilbo and Sherlock/Smaug. T for minor swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

Hello all. Okay, so I had this idea when I was watching Desolation of Smaug, which was quite some time ago. I remember thinking that it was funny that Bilbo and Smaug were played by the same actors that played John and Sherlock in _Sherlock. _So, I found it very difficult to focus on the scene where Bilbo tries to look for Arkenstone whilst trying to keep Smaug from killing him. I read the book quite some years back, so I already knew what was going on. All the while, I kept thinking how funny it would be if Smaug were to say something very Sherlock-like. So, I have decided to put my own twist into the story and make a crossover between Sherlock and The Hobbit simply because I can.

Oh, btw, season 1 of Sherlock was my favourite. So, this is based on whatever had occurred in Season 1. No Mary (Eventhough I love her) or Irene.

**Summary : **John follows Sherlock on a case. Things don't go down very well. Want to read about how John reacts to a dragon version of Sherlock? Summary really sucks. Read the author's note inside. It explains a lot more well than the summary does. Give it a shot. It's worth the time :) John/Bilbo and Sherlock/Smaug.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing here besides the plot change.**

* * *

To say that John was confused was an understatement. He was completely baffled as to why he was running halfway across London in the pouring rain. He just didn't understand.

"John!" He heard Sherlock's voice some distance away, muffled by the rain. "Hurry up. We're going to lose him." He continued.

John slowed down and looked up to see Sherlock's cloak illuminated by the dim lights of the street lamps, swishing behind him as he disappeared into an alley on his right.

Drenched from head to toe, John ran after the world's only Consulting Detective, wondering how on earth he had ended up here. One minute they were at a crime scene, with Sherlock observing the murder victim's body before yelling at everyone to shut up and making Anderson leave the room because his face was putting him off. After some incoherent mumbling and looking out the window of the flat, he clapped his hands together and his face lit up much like a child during Christmas before running out into the rain, egging John to follow him.

Whilst following Sherlock, John had managed to pick up a few details. Why had Sherlock gone out of the flat? Simple, a man was haggling outside the crime scene. Sherlock was keen enough to notice him and the man immediately made a dash for it as soon as he saw Sherlock approaching him. If he wasn't guilty of anything then why would he run? Conclusion, he is either connected to the murder or he is the murderer.

John thought the man to be very stupid. It was very reckless of him to be hanging around the crime scene if he was indeed the murderer but then again, Sherlock had mentioned to him once that people like this tend to have enormous egos thus they like to see for themselves if they've managed to outsmart the police.

Turning into the alley that Sherlock had disappeared into mere seconds ago, John came to an abrupt halt. It was dark. In fact, it was so dark that John could barely make out the walls on either side of him. He looked ahead and saw a blurry, dim lighting of a lamp post at the very end of the alley which was miles away.

Queer thing was he couldn't see Sherlock at all. He was certain that Sherlock had come this way. So, where could he have gone?

Running a hand through his wet hair, John tried to focus. Sherlock had to be here somewhere.

"Sherlock," He called softly into the dark. He waited for a few seconds to pass. There was no answer but he was fairly sure that he wasn't alone in the alley. The sound of feet shuffling could be heard from some distance albeit very softly.

"Sherlock," He tried again, a little louder. "Are you here?" He asked before instinctively reaching out for his gun at his back pocket. It wasn't there. John fumbled a little, patting his pockets for any sign of his gun. He groaned softly, Sherlock must have nicked it from him at the crime scene.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, John contemplated on the best thing to do at the moment. Should he stay put, return back to the flat or move forward and face whatever that lay in front of him.

"John," Sherlock's voice came from somewhere inside the darkness, successfully breaking his chain of thoughts.

"John," Sherlock repeated. "Do keep quiet. Our murderer has a gun." He said in an eerily calm voice.

John's brows creased together. So what if he had a gun. Sherlock had one too and that's when John realized. He mentally slapped himself for being so careless. He had left his gun at Baker Street and Sherlock knew that hence the warning.

"Where is he?" John asked as he took a few steps forward. He still couldn't see Sherlock.

"I'm," Said a new voice. "Right here."

A man, about the same height as Sherlock if not an inch shorter, walked out from the shadows pulling a very disgruntled looking Sherlock with him. He had a very stocky figure and he looked to be in his mid thirties. His cheek was bruised and Sherlock had a bloody cut on his upper lip.

There had been a brawl between the two of them and it was clear that it hadn't end quite as Sherlock had expected it too. His original plan was that he would end up with the upper hand.

The stranger was definitely a man with a great amount of physical strength, John observed. He had successfully pinned both of Sherlock's hands behind his back with one hand and another held a gun to the side of Sherlock's head.

John did a mental scan of Sherlock to see if he could locate any life threatening injuries. He found none. Sherlock seemed to have a nasty bruise blooming on the side of his forehead and a few scratches here and there but that was it.

John let out a sigh of relief which caught Sherlock's attention. He looked at John with a glum expression. He was not happy about his situation at all. He had underestimated the strength of the man next to him and he was not one bit proud of it.

However, he did get one thing right; the man next to him was the murder victim's ex-husband. After some thought, Sherlock recalled his name to be Sylvester. Now the big question was why? Why had he murdered his ex-wife?

"She met someone." Sherlock exclaimed before locking eyes with John. He needed John to understand the severity of the situation. The situation could either play out very nicely for all of them or it could get very ugly rather quickly.

John gave a slight nod to show that he understood. Sylvester, however, was quite taken aback with Sherlock's revelation that he didn't notice the small exchange between the Detective and his P.A.

"What are you implying?" Sylvester asked harshly, gripping Sherlock's arms tighter, waiting for an explanation.

Exasperated, Sherlock looked up to sky. The rain had just stopped and glittering stars adorned the night sky.

"Your wife," Sherlock started, looking ahead now. "Or might I say your ex-wife that you still love, met someone else. You thought it was just a phase and that she'll get over him quickly enough. However, judging from the shiny, new engagement ring on her right hand, she didn't and you couldn't accept it." Sherlock said in a breath.

John watched the man closely. At first, he seemed to wear an expression of utter shock but that quickly changed into a look of horror before finally being replaced by anger as his cheeks began to puff out.

"I didn't mean to do it." He spluttered, getting a better grip of Sherlock's arms. "She was supposed to come back to me. I loved her! For six years I loved her and she forgets me just like that. She forgot all about me!" He half yelled whilst jamming the gun into the side of Sherlock's head in anger.

Sherlock winced at the impact but was otherwise unfazed. He looked at John with a quirked eyebrow as if he was asking, "Not good?"

John shook his head slightly before frowning at Sherlock, a gesture which clearly says, "A bit not good."

Taking that as a cue, John decided it was high time that he stepped in. If Sherlock did any more talking, one of them were bound to be shot.

"Listen," John started calmly, directing his entire focus to the man with the hand gun. "Why don't we all just take a second to calm down and clear our heads?" He asked in the gentlest way possible.

"Calm down?" Sylvester questioned John, incredulously. "I killed the woman I love. How can I possibly calm down? I'm going to get arrested if I get caught." He stated looking quite mad. His hold on Sherlock never faltered.

"But the police don't know anything. I saw them and no one even spared a glance at me. It's just you two." He continued, pointing the gun at John now.

John risked a quick peek at Sherlock before slowly raising his hands in front of him, an act of surrender. He was sure that from that point on everything was going to go downhill.

"Killing us won't do much good to anybody. In fact, it's just going to get you into more trouble." John started slowly, trying hard to get the attention of the mad man in front of him.

"D.I. Lestrade, the Detective in charge of her case, he's got a real sharp mind." John continued, earning a loud snort and an eye roll from Sherlock. John glared daggers at him for a full minute before turning his attention back to Sylvester.

"He's going to catch you sooner or later." John continued, taking a step closer to the two men. He's one and only aim at the moment was to disarm the dangerous man.

"Stop right there!" Sylvester yelled at John. "Take another step closer and I'll blow his head off." He emphasized by pointing the gun back to the side of Sherlock's head.

John stopped immediately, his eyes moving very quickly from Sylvester to Sherlock and then to the gun in between them.

"I know you loved your wife very much-" John started slowly but he never had a chance to finish his sentence for another voice interrupted him.

"Ex-wife," Sherlock interjected with a cough, earning a glare from John. "Dead ex-wife, whom you murdered." He continued smugly.

Things went absolutely disastrous after that.

Sylvester yelled something incoherent to Sherlock, momentarily forgetting about John. He was just about to fire his gun when he felt his whole arm being pulled backwards.

The movement caught him off guard. Panic swelled inside Sylvester as he felt his arm being pulled. Without thinking he pulled the trigger and a clear shot rang out, cutting the silent night like a blade.

* * *

For a genius, Sherlock could really be an utter idiot sometimes, John thought to himself. The minute that those words spilled out from his mouth, John knew without a doubt that there was no time to waste. Quickly, he ran behind Sylvester just as he was about to shoot Sherlock and jerked his arm backwards, hoping that the shot would miss its target.

Luckily for Sherlock, Sylvester did miss his target and the hand pinning his arms loosened. Sherlock was able to break free from his grip. He then punched Sylvester in the face, successfully knocking him out in the process.

It all happened rather quickly and the feel of adrenaline pumping throughout his body made him grin like a maniac. Standing over Sylvester's unconscious body, Sherlock clasped his hands together before turning to face John.

"That was brilliant, John." He said with a glint in his eyes. He looked at John who had his head bent down and his eyes shut.

"John," He said cautiously, his grin disappearing almost instantly. "Are you alright?"

"You utter cock," John choked out as he clutched his right arm. Slowly, he looked up and groaned loudly. He's blurry vision was seeing two Sherlock's instead of one which only meant one thing, more trouble.

He swayed on his feet slightly and was about to fall backwards when he felt Sherlock rushing up to him and cradling his upper body. Very gently, Sherlock laid him down onto the brick pavement.

"What's wrong?" He asked calmly before noticing the vice grip John had on his right arm.

Prying John's hand away from his arm, Sherlock carefully removed John's coat to reveal the blood covered bullet wound just beneath his right clavicle. At the sight of John's blood, panic swelled inside of Sherlock.

"God John, there's blood. There's so much of blood." He said quickly, letting his nerves get the better of him.

"What do I do? I don't know what to do, John. There's a reason why you're the doctor, not me." Sherlock continued quickly.

"Sherlock, will you please shut up." John hissed, surprising Sherlock. "Now, calm down. It's not like you've never seen blood before." He continued.

Next to him, Sherlock stilled. He took long, deep breaths and tried to calm his nerves.

"Are you calm?" John asked him.

"Yes." Sherlock replied in a huff.

"Ok, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Call for an ambulance now." He instructed Sherlock. Immediately, he could hear Sherlock tapping away on his Blackberry and yelling orders to someone at the other end. John's vision blurred further until he was only seeing blotches of colours around him.

"Sherlock," John called quietly the minute he was done talking on his mobile. "I think I'm going to faint soon so would you please make sure I get to the hospital all right?" He asked as the darkness seemed to find its way into his vision.

"John, please. I need you to stay awake." He heard Sherlock say. The urgency in his voice was clear. He listened to Sherlock plead for him to stay awake until finally he could hear nothing.

* * *

"Bilbo?"

John stirred. He let out a throaty groan. He had expected to be lying on something soft and comfortable. Instead, he felt like he was lying down on a bed of jagged rocks.

"Bilbo?" He heard the voice say again. John cracked open his eyes. It was dark. The moon had disappeared from the night sky and dawn was approaching.

"Thank goodness. You had us worried there for a minute, little halfling. " Balin said, peering down at him so closely that his beard was tickling the tip of John's nose.

'_Bilbo,' _John thought. He was dreaming, for sure, but somewhere in his unconscious state, John was sure that he was Bilbo and Bilbo was him.

This was a dwarf he was looking at. He was on a journey with dwarves and he was meant to be their burglar. He had found a mysterious ring and Gandalf was late. They have made their way to The Lonely Mountain and he had found the key hole. Then, he remembered tripping on a rock and falling face first onto the unforgiving rocky path.

Bilbo groaned loudly. Of course he had fallen. How embarrassing! Oh, how he wished he was back home in his little hobbit hole.

"Up now, Master Burglar, you have a stone to fetch and a dragon to sneak past." Said Thorin as he helped Bilbo up onto his feet.

* * *

**Author's Note :**

What did you think? Bad or good? Continue or not? I really want to know if it's worth continuing. If you think so thn leave a review otherwise I might pull the plug on this fic cause the next few chapters will be a lot of work and I don't want to waste my time if no one's going to read it. Thanks :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all. First off, I'm really sorry for taking a long time to get Chapter 2 up. I've been really busy with course work. My apologies to all and I hope you like this one. Secondly, a BIG thank you to all those who have reviewed, favourite and followed the story. I am really amazed by the response of it all. I hope I've done this chapter justice.

Have you all watched Hobbit 3? It's amazing! If you haven't, I strongly recommend for you to do so.

Enjoy reading!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything here besides the plot change.**

**PS: I'm referring John as Bilbo in this chapter, so hopefully not much confusion in that area. Also, I did use lines from The Hobbit book itself because I wanted to stick close to the book. **

* * *

_"Bilbo?"_

_John stirred. He let out a throaty groan. He had expected to be lying on something soft and comfortable. Instead, he felt like he was lying down on a bed of jagged rocks._

_"Bilbo?" He heard the voice say again. John cracked open his eyes. It was dark. The moon had disappeared from the night sky and dawn was approaching._

_"Thank goodness. You had us worried there for a minute, little halfling. " Balin said, peering down at him so closely that his beard was tickling the tip of John's nose._

_'__Bilbo,' __John thought. He was dreaming, for sure, but somewhere in his unconscious state, John was sure that he was Bilbo and Bilbo was him._

_This was a dwarf he was looking at. He was on a journey with dwarves and he was meant to be their burglar. He had found a mysterious ring and Gandalf was late. They have made their way to The Lonely Mountain and he had found the key hole. Then, he remembered tripping on a rock and falling face first onto the unforgiving rocky path._

_Bilbo groaned loudly. Of course he had fallen. How embarrassing! Oh, how he wished he was back home in his little hobbit hole._

_"Up now, Master Burglar, you have a stone to fetch and a dragon to sneak past." Said Thorin as he helped Bilbo up onto his feet._

Once Bilbo had straightened out his bearings, he gave the rest of the company a curt nod. Feeling a little unsure of himself, he unconsciously patted his right pocket, feeling for the ring before creeping through the enchanted entrance. Balin followed closely behind him.

They both walked in silence down the carved passageway. All the time, both creatures of folklore thought about two very different things. Balin was feeling nostalgic as he took in every detail of the passage. From the path they were walking on to the small, delicate cracks in the walls brought tears to the corners of his old, crinkled eyes.

Bilbo, on the other hand, couldn't decide if he was afraid, nervous or confident. Whilst walking down the passage, he thought about the glory of finding the Arkenstone and a surge of confidence would run through him. But then he would think about the sleeping dragon, Smaug, and he would be afraid again. All these conflicting emotions left him nervous and slightly jumpy.

Then, out of nowhere, he started thinking of Sherlock and how he would have handled the situation. He wondered if a six feet plus Consulting Detective with an impressive pair of cheekbones would be able to sneak past a full-fledge dragon.

Bilbo had to stifle a laugh. The thought of Sherlock sneaking past anything was just hilarious. He would have just walked straight up to the dragon and waken it up, talked about something that involved a great amount of intellect that would have left the dragon utterly confused or in very deep thought.

Bilbo was so caught up in his own musing that he let out a soft yelp when Balin put a hand on his shoulder.

Bilbo had to shut his eyes. One of his hands had curled into a fist whilst the other rested on his chest right above his heart. He was taking deep, slow breaths to try and get his nerves to calm down. The dwarf chuckled at the sight of the halfling.

"Well Bilbo," Balin started. "We have come to the end of the tunnel. From here, you journey alone." Balin continued as he nodded towards the opening at the end of the passage. "I wish you, young burglar a very good luck."

"Any advice?" Bilbo asked Balin.

"Just try not to wake the dragon." Balin said in a serious tone.

With a nod, Bilbo straightened his back and began walking until he was finally out of the tunnel. He slipped on his ring and continued down the path alone. All the while, he kept thinking of his sweet, warm and safe home back at Bag End.

As noiselessly as possible, Bilbo crept down into the ever growing darkness of the mountain. Fear gripping his bones as he did so. After a while, the young hobbit realised that the air had grown much warmer than before. His brows were covered with sweat and ahead of him there was light, a red light, to be more specific.

Finally Bilbo had reached the bottom most dungeons and the red light was none other than the glow of Smaug. There it lay, in all its glory, the red-golden dragon, fast asleep. A loud thrum came from it and from its nostrils, wisps of hot smoke.

Its wings were folded onto its back and Bilbo stared at the creature in front of him. He continued staring for what seemed like ages. It took some time for him to drink in the sight he was seeing. There, in front of him, lied the sleeping dragon, Smaug, on a bed made fit for a dragon. For all around him lay gems of different colours and sizes, mountains of golden objects and so many other rich things.

A loud snore from the dragon quickly snapped Bilbo out of his reverie. Thinking fast and making sure that the dragon was fast asleep, he picked up a two handle goblet and fled as quickly as his little hobbit legs could carry him out of the dungeon.

He ran and ran until finally he collides into an elderly dwarf. Bilbo had taken off his ring by now. He was hunched over, panting hard as he held the goblet in his hand.

Balin, on the other hand, was taken aback for a moment but the minute he saw Bilbo's face all signs of worry disappeared from his. So overjoyed was he to see the young burglar and the treasure that he held. With little effort, the dwarf picked up the halfling and carried him out of the tunnel and into open air.

Needless to say, the rest of the company were ecstatic to see their little burglar pull through. However, their small victory was short lived. Within moments, the dwarves heard a loud rumbling sound. Then, quite suddenly, a deafening roar erupted from within the mountains. The dragon, Smaug, was awake and it was very aware of its stolen treasure and it was going to make sure that the thief would be caught.

* * *

After the ponies had been lost or killed by the wrath of Smaug, the company deliberated on their next course of action. There was a good amount of arguing and blame putting.

Bilbo listened to it all and once he had had enough of the bickering, he gave the rest of the company a proposal.

"I can make you an offer," Bilbo started. "I have my ring. I will go back down there and see what Smaug is up to. Perhaps something might turn up. 'Every worm has its weak spot,' is what my father used to say."

By now the dwarves had come to respect the little hobbit. He was somewhat a leader in their eyes. Seeing as that was the best idea that had been put forth so far, the dwarves readily agreed to his plan and that was how Bilbo had found himself back in the dungeon where the dragon lay, pretending to be asleep. But of course, Bilbo did not know this otherwise the little hobbit wouldn't even think of entering the tunnel.

"Old Smaug is weary." Bilbo thought. He was just about to step out to the floor when he noticed that Smaug had his left eye slightly open. Hurriedly, Bilbo stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring.

The dragon was watching the entrance of the tunnel!

"_T__hief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath."_ The dragon said slowly and surely. Its deep voice resonated within the dungeon and it sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine.

But was it a shiver of fear or recognition? Bilbo couldn't decide. Although the voice of Smaug was intimidating and fearless, Bilbo felt as if he recognized it somehow. He just couldn't place from where or when had he heard this voice before.

"_Help yourself again, there is plenty to spare." _Continued Smaug, determined to lure the burglar out of his hiding spot.

Bilbo, on the other hand, was not quite unlearned in dragon lore. He wasn't quite keen on giving the dragon the satisfaction of revealing himself.

"No thank you, O Smaug the Tremendous!" Bilbo said finally. "I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them." Bilbo was pleased with himself. He had answered rather aptly in his mind.

_"Do you now?"_ said the dragon somewhat flattered.

Again, this struck Bilbo as a little odd.

'That voice,' He pondered to himself. 'Where have I heard this voice before?'

But Bilbo didn't have the luxury of wasting time wondering. Smaug was waiting for an answer.

"Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities," replied Bilbo.

Bilbo thought his flattery directed towards the dragon was a little over exaggerated but Smaug didn't seem to mind it one bit

'This dragon has an ego that matches the size of its head.' Bilbo thought to himself. Now, wasn't there someone else he knew who had a large ego too?

"You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," The dragon sneered and that was when everything clicked. So frustrated was he with his revelation, that he shut his eyes, tilted his little head up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sherlock," He whispered to himself, slightly frustrated. "Can't you even let me dream in peace!"

Smaug was taken aback. It had heard everything the creature had said and it was thoroughly puzzled. What was this Sherlock? Was it a curse? Had he upset the creature with the nice manners? Thief or not, Smaug was actually enjoying Bilbo's company. Bilbo had a way with words and Smaug very much appreciated it.

"Not good?" The dragon asked finally.

"A bit not good." Came Bilbo's immediate response. It took the Halfling less than half a second to realize the significance of this exchange and when he did his jaw fell open.

* * *

So, how was it? Ok? Let me know. Also, everytime someone reviewed or favourite or followed the story, it fueled me to write a little more.

Thank you all again,

Oak :)


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note

Hi all. First off, i'm sorry this took so long. I was busy then I just had major writer's block. But here it is now! I hope you like it :)

Next, THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED AND FAVOURITE AND FOLLOWED. God bless all of you. Really, you guys always make my day.

I hope this was worth the wait :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Not even the characters except for the murderer and his wife. Oops, sorry, I meant his _ex-_wife

* * *

_Recap:_

"_Sherlock," He whispered to himself, slightly frustrated. "Can't you even let me dream in peace!" _

_Smaug was taken aback. It had heard everything the creature had said and it was thoroughly puzzled. What was this Sherlock? Was it a curse? Had he upset the creature with the nice manners? Thief or not, Smaug was actually enjoying Bilbo's company. Bilbo had a way with words and Smaug very much appreciated it. _

"_Not good?" The dragon asked finally._

"_A bit not good," Came Bilbo's reply almost immediately. It took the halfling less than half a second to realize the significance of this exchange and when he did, his jaw fell open._

To say that Bilbo was shocked was an understatement. He stood there gaping at the dragon for what seemed like ages. He just could not comprehend the situation that had occurred. His mind was racing. Why had he mentioned Sherlock? Somehow the dragon reminded him of his friend. Smaug's giant ego, arrogance, perceptiveness, rudeness and its way with words reminded Bilbo of his detective friend but there was also an underline of loneliness, sadness and a longing for proper company in its tone that really reminded Bilbo of Sherlock. Not to mention the snarl. Yes, Smaug was terrifying but John had lived with a high functioning sociopath for almost a year now to know that even crazy geniuses, or in this case crazy dragons, are capable of being lonely at times.

Bilbo peered up at the dragon closely, trying to make out its expression. It was clear that Smaug was thinking. Thinking about what exactly, Bilbo couldn't say. Maybe it was thinking of an effective way to lure Bilbo out of his hiding place. Whatever its plan was, Bilbo was not going to give in. He would not let himself be seen. He was determined not to be dragon food or in his case dragon snack, considering his size. Bilbo was still trying to decipher Smaug's expression when a loud rumble bounced off the walls of the cave, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Is Sherlock a curse word, thief?" Smaug asked to nothing in particular since it didn't exactly know where the thief was. Its large eyes seemed distant and its expression was somewhat thoughtful.

Bilbo was, once again, lost for words. He was truly not expecting that. Was Sherlock a curse word? Maybe Sally and Anderson would think so, he thought hazily. Bilbo was starting to feel a little dizzy by now. His thoughts seemed to be slightly muddled too. Was the heat getting too much for him? He was vaguely aware that Smaug was expecting an answer but he was having trouble with phrasing exaggerated answers.

"In this time, O Great Dragon, Sherlock is a word that not many have come by. Use it however you will, either in curse or in name. Take this word, O Scaliest Dragon, as a gift from me, if you will for it is this particular word that will define an entire generation in the coming future." Bilbo managed to say after some time. His head had started to throb a little and the halfling could feel a dull, aching sort of pain spreading over his right shoulder. Bilbo blearily wondered if somehow Smaug had found him and had dug one of its giant claws into his shoulder. That couldn't be it though, Smaug was within his peripheral vision and with a quick glance down, Bilbo was able to confirm that there was no sharp looking thing sticking out of his right shoulder. The absence of blood solidified his confirmation but then why was it hurting?

"A word as a gift?" Smaug laughed. It was the kind laugh that indicated that the dragon was amused but as the sound of the deep, throaty laugh resonated within the walls of the dungeon, Bilbo couldn't help but feel the menace that lied within the amusement.

"You are no teller of the future. Why should I accept your pitiful gift?" Smaug continued. "I hope you do not think that a word that holds no meaning is enough to compensate for the treasure that you have stolen from me."

Bilbo shuddered. The pain in his shoulder had increased drastically. He was having a hard time standing up and his vision had started swimming. However, he could still see and hear Smaug albeit blearily.

"I have nothing in my possession, great dragon, to show to you and to prove to you of my insight." Bilbo said with a shudder. His words trembled slightly. He tried hard to keep the pain out of his voice. It didn't work. Smaug picked up on the underlying hint of pain that was in the halfling's voice and wondered what was wrong.

"Are you okay, John?" The dragon asked.

"I'm not sure," Bilbo replied. "My shoulder really hurts." He finished looking up at a bleary image of Smaug. Everything seemed to be blending in together.

"John," The dragon said again, this time however, Bilbo had noticed the name it used. He also noticed that the dragon was looking directly at him. When had Smaug found him? All of a sudden, Bilbo couldn't stay on his feet. He doubled over, gasping. Black spots made its way into his vision somehow. As graceful as a donkey, Bilbo managed to lie himself down onto the cold, stone floor. He looked up and saw the jagged ceiling of the dungeon, way up high. Next to him, surprisingly was Smaug. He didn't have the luxury of wondering how it had gotten to his side as darkness took over.

"John." He heard the dragon, who sounded like Sherlock, say but in his state of mind the voice sounded so far away.

* * *

This time when John regained consciousness, he noted the soft mattress he was lying on. He had to blink several times to clear the bleariness in his vision. The hospital room he was in was dark. Night had already fallen but how many times night had fallen before this night, he wasn't sure. The blinds were open and he could see the soft illumination of the street lamps outside. He could hear the soft beeps of the heart monitor next to his bed. Tubes ran the length of his bed before disappearing into the upper side of his right hand. John was parched. He needed a glass of water. Turning in bed slightly made him wince. He looked down and saw that a bandage was tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Sighing at the sight, he reached for the tiny red help button with his good arm. However, before he could properly grasp the button, he caught sight of a figure sitting on a chair next to his bed, albeit not very closely.

John did a double take. Who could be in his room? It couldn't be Harry. The figure was much too large to be a female. John was going to push the button when the figure squished in the little armchair let out a soft snore. Wait a minute. He knew that snore. Though he didn't hear it very often as the owner of it rarely slept, he could still recognise that snore anywhere. It was a rare sound but since he had been living with this person for almost a year now, John could tell who it belonged too.

"Sherlock?" John rasped out. His voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. The body in the armchair stirred a little. Since John wasn't exactly mobile and the lighting in the room prevented him from actually seeing Sherlock's face, John couldn't tell if Sherlock had woken up. He gave the sociopath five minutes before calling his name again.

"Sherlock." He said a little louder. This time, Sherlock didn't stir. Instead, what he did next nearly gave John a heart attack. The minute John had called him, the man in the chair bolted upright and shouted, "I am awake!" with a very serious look on his face. Funny thing was that he wasn't facing John. Instead, he was looking towards the door expecting to see a doctor in the room. Realization quickly dawned upon him and he turned around to find a startled looking John.

"John! You're awake." He exclaimed, rushing to John's side. John had relaxed by now. He indicated to the water jug next to Sherlock and Sherlock got the hint. Steadily, Sherlock poured a glass of water for John. Propping him up on the bed as gently as he could, Sherlock managed to get some water into John's system.

"Do I need to get the doctor?" Sherlock asked. At this, John quickly scanned his heart monitor and asked Sherlock to hand him his reports that were at the end of his bed. Sherlock had sat back down on the chair as John went through his papers.

"No," He said, finally, setting the papers aside. "I'll be fine. We'll get the doctor in the morning." He finished. He turned and studied Sherlock. The detective had purple bags under his eyes and he looked skinnier than usual. Stress must have gotten to him. Maybe he was working on a difficult case.

"How long have I been out?" John asked.

"About two days. You've been constantly in and out of it. The anesthesia made you slightly delirious. This is the first time you've been properly awake." Sherlock said, looking closely at John. As John deliberated the information Sherlock had just given him, Sherlock took the opportunity to properly look at John. His nerves had been a wreck these past few days and the worry he had experienced was not at all like he expected.

"You know, John. There's something I need to tell you," Sherlock began but was cut off when John looked up at him. He could see a spark of recognition in John's eyes. "What? Is something wrong?" He asked John.

"It's you." John said.

"It's me?" Sherlock asked confused, Maybe John still was a little delirious.

"You're the dragon." John said triumphantly with a wide smile like he had just passed a ridiculously hard test. At this, Sherlock groaned inwardly. Dragon talk. Conclusion: John is still delirious.

"Get some sleep, John." Sherlock told him before flopping down onto his armchair again. This time, though, he pulled it closer to the side of John's bed.

"Okay, O great one." John replied happily before making himself comfortable. All the while, Sherlock threw him extremely confused looks.

* * *

**_And that its. Hope you enjoyed this one. Leave a review and let me know :)_**

**_Also I've written a short Johnlock fluff called Bedtime. Check it out if you're into it. _**


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